A Fish Called Sean
by kitty1
Summary: “but at least they weren’t waking up alone.” Susan gets a phone call... and Luka also makes a cameo.


A Fish Called Sean  
  
Spoilers: A Boy Falling Out of the Sky & A Thousand Cranes.  
  
The authory note: The first time I've really had a go at writing Susan... hope I didn't do too bad. And Luka wasn't supposed to be in here, but he showed up so I had to give him a seat.  
  
Summary: "but at least they weren't waking up alone." Susan gets a phone call.  
  
***  
  
And when she put the phone down she didn't cry. Tears felt like a waste and it wouldn't have been right to cry, when she would be grieving as much for herself as for him.  
  
So she didn't cry, and her apartment seemed emptier than it had before, the photos of her family, of past things on her shelves making it even more so: how far away were they all? How often didn't they call? When was the last time she actually had a photo to put up?  
  
She'd held her hand over the phone a moment longer, because she wouldn't cry, but she could celebrate for him, and that would keep the empty apartment at bay for oh, at least another couple of hours. The numbers stalled on her fingertips. Anyone she could call would probably be spending the night with other people they'd rather be with, people who left clothes and laughter and pieces of themselves like photographs in their apartments, who didn't need to be reached by phone because they were always there, always there to keep them warm in the middle of the night and then grump at them in the mornings before coffee – but at least they weren't waking up alone.  
  
She didn't have any pets, any cats or dogs to greet her with wagging tails when she got home. She wouldn't even end up one of those cat women, wouldn't end up with any animals gnawing on her decomposing body days after she'd died, only discovered when the neighbours grew sick of the smell and alerted somebody. No, she would just die alone, and be found here alone in this empty apartment.  
  
Maybe crying would be a healthy response after all.  
  
At least it would be something.  
  
Putting on her coat she walked out of her apartment, tempted to call out to it that she wouldn't be back for a while and that she hoped it would miss her for her sake, as they were all the other had.  
  
She didn't cry and she normally wouldn't do this, but it felt strangely appropriate. The bar was almost empty when she walked inside, making her feel right at home. Everywhere she went she brought emptiness. Just great.  
  
The bartender greeted her with a pasted on smile as she pulled up a seat. Asking for a drink she sat with it for a few minutes, idly stirring it with the stalks of some maraschino cherries. She could easily understand Abby's need for this stuff, an endless array of warmth to drown in. She knew though, that she lacked that core emptiness that created addictions, which compelled people to obliteration, something that also added to her melancholy. She couldn't even make a good alcoholic.   
  
The funeral was in a week and she wasn't altogether sure if she would be welcome after all the fuss she'd caused with his mother, the fuss she'd caused because she wanted to believe with Sean, both of them knowing where that hope would end regardless.  
  
"I am the patron saint of lost causes," she muttered into her drink.  
  
"Do you think we could get that added to our medical licenses?"  
  
If she were the kind to jump in response to people sneaking up behind her she would have done, if she were the kind to cry at sad news she would have been, instead she turned to him with an eyebrow raised.  
  
Luka was smiling at her. She could tell he was wearing the clothes he'd worn to work because they looked as absolutely worn down as he did; shirtsleeves rolled up twice displaying muscular arms, the knot in his tie pulled out, top few buttons undone, and his eyes wearing a somewhat sleepy expression: he'd been here for a while, was possibly already slightly drunk.   
  
"You don't think it would put the patients off?"  
  
"That's a bad thing?"  
  
She grinned, shaking her head before taking another long sip of her drink. She hadn't noticed him when she'd arrived, possibly because he blended in here so well with his scruffy clothes and focused ambition on the drink in front of him.   
  
She isn't sure what to say to him, she could ask how he is, but the question seems pretty redundant considering they're both drinking in a dark bar, alone. The question, "who aren't you crying for?" springs to mind.  
  
Instead she surprises herself and says, "He was only seventeen. He didn't deserve to die, y'know? And I should have known better than to tell him he wouldn't. I should have just... I don't know."  
  
He listens, accent slightly thickened by the alcohol, "You knew better, that's why you told him he wouldn't."  
  
She holds his dark gaze, smiles. It was something that intrigued her, that he had such green eyes and yet they always managed to seem utterly dark, so much so that you almost couldn't tell what color they were unless you looked hard enough. She realized she was looking that hard and turned back to her drink. A long thick moment passed in a silence that wasn't entirely meaningful.  
  
"Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?" She turned to him, head resting on shoulder.   
  
"Drinking?" He replied with a boyish grin.  
  
She smiled, "I meant being a doctor."  
  
He gestured with his glass, the ice clinking.  
  
She looked at him, "The truth is somewhere between the first and fortieth drink?"  
  
His Adam's apple bobbed once as he tossed back the last of the dark liquid in his tumbler. "No, but you forget you were looking for it somewhere after the tenth."  
  
Looking at him she finally stood up, picking up her coat and drawing it around her.  
  
He watched this, mildly confused at her sudden motion. Had he said something? "Where are you going?"  
  
"To buy some goldfish." He laughs, thinking this to be a joke, but her face remained serious, "You coming with me or what?"  
  
"It's seven o'clock, Susan."  
  
"There's a pet store two blocks down from where I live that stays open 'till ten. I'd always wondered what the point of that was, until now."  
  
He turned to look back at his drink, yup, still there. It was always there, would always be there, and he would always be here willing to give it some company. Rubbing at his forehead with his hands he got up slowly, paying for their drinks.   
  
They'd talked on the way to the store, the conversation eased along by the alcohol they'd consumed. He'd asked about the seventeen year old she'd mentioned, she'd told him about all the things he'd wanted from life, all those simple everyday things, all the things he'd never have, and he listened. She didn't mention that those were the same things she wanted from her own life, nothing more, nothing less. She'd attempted coaxing out reasons why he'd been drowning his sorrows in there, but he only deflected the questions back to her.  
  
The store smelt of animals, of sawdust and food, and they could hear birds chirping away in the back as they entered. The boy behind the counter couldn't have been older than fifteen and quickly put his magazine away when he saw them, leading them to a vast display of fish after she'd told him what they were here for. Pointing out all the more exotic (and expensive) ones in bright neon colors and odd shapes, he was a little disappointed when she explained that she just wanted a couple of ordinary orange goldfish.  
  
Luka suggested a male and a female to keep her fish tank population from falling, and they watched as they were scooped out, wondering aloud how it was possible to tell the sexes in fish (did the men leave the fishbowl lid up? The women go to the toilet in pairs?)  
  
After another walk, this time to her apartment, they were left standing somewhat awkwardly in her doorway. She thanked him for carrying the fish tank all the way up the stairs for her, apologising again for the elevator that she could never remember having worked for her, admitting that she'd long suspected that behind those doors there was in fact no elevator and just a forty-foot drop.   
  
"So what are you going to call them?"   
  
Lifting the bag up near her face, she watched the goldfish circling it warily, shimmying against the plastic. She smiled. "The guy is Sean." He returned her smile and turned to walk away with a goodbye. "Hey Luka." He stopped and looked back at her, "You have to give the other one a name."  
  
He's shaking his head, "I... don't know any fish names."  
  
"You don't want me to call the girl Luka, do you?"  
  
A smile that actually reveals teeth this time, and he sighed thinking hard about this, a gesture that instantly endeared him to her – she'd been joking.   
  
"Dr Fish? Dr Susan Fish?" He offered finally.  
  
She grinned looking down at the swimming goldfish, repeating the name to herself and nodding. "Dr Fish it is."  
  
When she closed the door behind her, her apartment was still empty, but her heart was less so. Sean and Dr Fish swam around their new home in the middle of her living room, greeting the food she dropped in at the top happily, little fishy tails wagging.   
  
At this rate she would still be found weeks after her death, but at least the goldfish wouldn't gnaw on her decomposing body.  
  
***  
  
(I really don't know where this came from. Too much coffee? Probably. Annie wanted it to end with hot sex; it didn't, but know that this is now all Susan will be thinking about.) 


End file.
